It's incredible how intensely the thought of doing this affects Will, the knowledge of his own incapacitation completely secondary to the idea of watching Hannibal open him up and take part of him, Hannibal's hands inside the warm, living cavity of his body, Will's blood pumping, staining Hannibal's skin. And then, once Hannibal's stitched Will back together, Will imagines he'll lay on the table while Hannibal prepares their dinner, Will's kidney so fresh it won't have the chance to fully cool before Hannibal has it in a pan, Will able to smell the aroma of it while his legs slowly regain feeling, the ache of his newly rent flesh a testament to what he's gladly given to his partner, his lover. Before they eat Hannibal will dress Will, for partaking in this meal is more profoundly ceremonial than any other they've shared, even that of the ortolan bunting, or Will's offering of human flesh supposedly taken from Freddie Lounds.

Will is already so enthralled by the vision of what will be in his mind that he doesn't feel the shift in Hannibal's body weight until Hannibal's sitting down over him, pressing their erections together and startling a rough moan from Will that he pours into Hannibal's mouth. His arms go around Hannibal's neck and he pulls their bodies even closer together, thinking about Hannibal's mouth, his teeth, being consumed by him. Hannibal's body feels so hot and firm against him, solid and reassuring, and Will can't get as close as he wants, can't get enough, but it doesn't stop him from trying, kissing more deeply, bucking and arching and grinding, his fingertips digging into Hannibal's shoulders.